Of Stubborn Werewolves and Family
by Littleforest
Summary: [Complete] One-Shot. In the aftermath of Sirius' death, Harry feels alone, desperate and reckless. He can't see the point of carrying on anymore, but a visit from Lupin, not long after his return to the Dursleys, reminds Harry that even in the darkest of times, he's never quite as alone as he might think...


**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling. The lyrics belong to Mumford and Sons. This story belongs to me.**

**A/N – **Hello one and all! The start of this one-shot is pretty much the same way I started my very first story (Harry Potter and the Mark of a Hero), but I've decided to go in a very different direction for this one, so hopefully you don't mind. I've had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you like reading it just as much. It starts off very angsty, as almost all of my stories tend to do, but things do take on an optimistic edge by the end (I hope!). Remus Lupin is easily one of my favourite characters, and even though he does have faults, I always thought he had a lot to offer Harry, especially after Sirius' death. This is just my humble attempt to give him chance to do just that. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

**Of Werewolves and Family**

* * *

_You saw my pain, washed out in the rain,  
Broken glass, saw the blood run from my veins.  
But you saw no fault no cracks in my heart,  
And you knelt beside my hope torn apart.  
But the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view.  
And we'll live a long life._

_So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light,  
Cause oh they gave me such a fright.  
But I will hold as long as you like,  
Just promise me we'll be alright._

'Ghosts That We Knew', by Mumford and Sons

* * *

Heavy rain pounded mercilessly on the window of the smallest bedroom at Number Four Privet Drive, a product of one of the wettest and coldest summers that Britain had seen in recent times. However, even though he was wide awake, the room's current occupant paid no attention to it. At the moment, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was lying on his bed staring at the cracks on the ceiling and alternating between rapid periods of extreme anger, followed just as quickly by periods of lethargy so complete that his mind was blank.

On the verge of his sixteenth birthday, Harry Potter was showing all the physical signs of a boy who was leaving childhood behind. He still had a mop of messy black hair on his head but this was now accompanied by a dash of uneven stubble on his chin and above his lip. His frame, which in the past had always been small and slight, was now lanky as though he had recently undergone a growth spurt but had not yet adjusted to it.

However his face, once childlike, no longer held the expression of one who had any of that childlike innocence left. The simple fact was that Harry Potter had seen too much. If one looked closely, beyond the physical attributes, it was clear that Harry Potter had already left childhood far behind. His eyes, green like those of his mother, and hidden behind glasses like those of his father, held no laughter and no joy; they were lifeless and glazed over, caught in a moment of reliving horrific memories that had come to pass but still felt all too real to him.

He saw his parents' last moments, aided by the words he heard every time a Dementor came close to him. "_Lily, it's him! Run, take Harry, I'll hold him off". _His father's last words before Voldemort had mercilessly ripped the life from him. _"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead!" _His mother's plea; her final sacrifice, ready to die to protect her child.

Dead.

He saw the graveyard, a location that for many represented a peaceful resting place for their beloved friends and relatives who had since moved on. Not for Harry though. This particular graveyard held only horrific memories; the unbearable pain of the Cruciatus curse, the humiliation of being ridiculed in front of the Death Eaters, the utter powerlessness that he had felt when facing Voldemort with only a disarming spell to protect himself from certain death. But most of all, he saw the deadened eyes of Cedric Diggory, cruelly taken from the world before he had ever really had the chance to live in it. _"Kill the Spare"._ Only fourteen at the time, Harry had survived the horrific ordeal but Cedric, who had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, had not.

Dead.

Finally he saw the moment that had been plaguing him more than any other this summer. The moment that had been the subject of constant nightmares since the end of his fifth year at Hogwarts; the death of Sirius Black, his Godfather. He watched with intense sadness mingled with overwhelming guilt as Sirius fell through the veil in the Department of Mysteries, his face a mixture of surprise and regret.

Dead.

When thinking of this event, Harry's mind was caught between anger, guilt and regret. Anger at himself, at Bellatrix, at Kreacher; even at Sirius himself. His anger was all consuming at times, leaving no room for rationality. He wanted to shout and scream at the world for how unfair it all was. He wanted to get revenge for Sirius; to get retribution. He wanted to hurt those who had hurt Sirius; who had in turn hurt him.

At other times, he could feel nothing other than regret when he thought of his Godfather. After spending twelve unjust years in Azkaban, Sirius had escaped in order to protect Harry and get revenge on Wormtail. When the truth had finally been unearthed, Sirius had rapidly become something that Harry had never had before. He was a mixture between a father and a brother; he was family. Harry had decided, since then, that he could not, and would not, open himself up to that again, for fear that the pain of loss would destroy him.

For years, whilst at the Dursleys', he had had no one to care for him. When he'd finally left for Hogwarts, he had found best friends in Ron and Hermione and a surrogate family in the Weasleys. But they were not _his_ family, not really. Harry had always wanted someone who would care for him and him only, as selfish as that thought was. He'd always craved his own family, someone who could be there for _him_, and with Sirius he'd thought that he'd finally found it. Now that Sirius was gone, the pain of the loss hurt Harry so deeply that he almost wished that he had never entered the Wizarding World at all.

Some would say that 'It is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all' but Harry now disagreed. He had experienced far too much in his life for it to ever be as black and white as that. Now, Harry found that he almost longed to go back to the lonely days of his childhood before Hogwarts, where he'd had no one to care for him and therefore no one to lose. He felt as if he had nothing left now, and it hurt all the more because he had once had it. He now knew exactly what it was that he was missing, and what he had been missing all these years.

The loss of that, above all else, was what now haunted Harry the most...

"Boy! Get down here!"

The voice of his Uncle crept into Harry's consciousness like an unwelcome guest. He blinked and instinctively hid his turbulent emotions behind a well-practiced mask. He could hide his emotions from his relatives if he wanted to, but as much as he tried, he couldn't prevent himself from feeling them. He hated feeling weak, but at the moment his grief and guilt just wouldn't leave him. He wasn't even sure if he really wanted them to.

"BOY!" his Uncle yelled from downstairs. "If you don't get down here within the next three seconds you will be in serious trouble!"

Harry knew that it was more than likely that this was an empty threat. The talk that the Order members had had with the Dursleys at Kings Cross seemed to have worked; the Dursleys, and his Uncle in particular, had left him well enough alone.

Up until now, it seemed.

Harry moved off his bed and smoothed out the hand-me-down t-shirt and oversized jeans that he was wearing before slowly making his way downstairs, his emotionless mask firmly in place.

"Yes?" Harry said as he walked into the living room to face his Uncle. Since he knew that his Aunt and cousin weren't in the house, he had expected to find Uncle Vernon alone. However, to his surprise, not only did he find his Uncle there but also a face that was instantly more friendly and welcoming to Harry, but that also brought with it an uncomfortable sense of dread.

"Professor Lupin..." Harry asked. "What are you doing here?"

He realised, as soon as the words had left his mouth, that this may seem rude to his old Professor, but Harry's shock at having a wizard in this house had left his brain temporarily stunned into stupidity. After last year, he hadn't expected anyone to come back to the Dursleys' house at all, expect maybe to take him away to Hogwarts. But if that was the case, Lupin wouldn't have come alone, and he definitely wouldn't have come so soon.

And yet, here he was, and from Lupin's tattered robes to his tired but infinitely kind eyes, Lupin couldn't have looked more out of place in the Dursley's very ordinary, boring, muggle house than if he had suddenly spouted wings.

"I'm not your Professor anymore, Harry," Lupin said kindly. "Please call me Remus. And I'm here to see how you're holding up."

Harry's eyes dropped to the floor, and he clamped his mouth shut. He knew that if he looked Lupin in the eye then he wouldn't be able to lie to him. His old Professor, who had always seemed to be able to tell if something was wrong, would see straight through his mask of indifference and would know immediately that he was almost certainly _not _holding up well. In truth, Harry was barely keeping it together at all. However, he had no intention of letting Lupin know that; he didn't want to appear weak in front of the man he had always greatly admired, and he didn't want to give him any more reason to worry.

So instead, Harry lied.

"I'm fine," Harry replied dully, his gazed firmly fixed on the disgusting patterns on his Aunt's carpet. He didn't want to talk about it. Not with anyone.

Remus looked at him with sympathy, clearly not believing him for a second. "Oh, Harry…"

"Why are you here?" Harry repeated dully, though he didn't raise his head.

Before Lupin could answer, however, a terrible thought crawled into Harry's mind, something that had been worrying him since the events of the Department of Mysteries.

"Is something wrong," Harry asked, his eyes rising finally to meet Lupin's, his heart beating loudly in his chest. "Is it Voldemort-?"

"I'm just here to check on you," Lupin said quickly. "Everyone's fine. It's just…Harry, you seem to have forgotten to write to a member of the Order since you returned home, and I'll be honest – I've been worried about you."

Harry blanched at this, but was saved from making a response when his Uncle spoke.

"As you can see the boy is fine. There'll be no need for any visits from any of your kind," Uncle Vernon interjected quickly, gesturing a meaty hand towards his nephew.

It seemed that Uncle Vernon was making an inhuman effort to remain casual and calm in front of the somewhat intimidating company, especially since Lupin had been one of the people who had threatened him at the train station, but Harry, well-trained to his Uncle's moods, definitely noticed a trace of anger and fear in his voice. Harry supposed that his uncle was still tense over that particular threat...

Lupin paid little attention to the panic that Uncle Vernon was now displaying, and did not seem the slightest bit bothered by the rapidly changing colour of his face.

Instead, Lupin frowned at Harry again. "Harry, it's been four days since term ended, but none of the guard have even once seen you leave the house. Judging by your appearance, I'd go so far as to suggest that you've barely even left your room."

Harry's cheeks turned red at this; he had indeed not left his room for the last few days, not even to eat (his aunt had reverted back to using the cat flap on his door), and hygiene had certainly not been foremost on his mind.

"I've been doing homework. I wanted to get a head start," Harry murmured, hoping that Lupin would accept the lie, "In fact I'd like to get back to it now-"

"Harry", Lupin gently interrupted, "Forgive me, but I think your homework can wait. Even Professor Snape wouldn't begrudge you a break from your schoolwork."

Harry just scoffed, not bothering to censor his thoughts on the matter from his old Professor. Honestly, the man should know better than anyone…

"On second thoughts," conceded Lupin with a slight twinkle of amusement in his eyes, amid all the worry, "Perhaps not."

Harry didn't smile though, and it was with a heavy sigh that Lupin broke the increasing tension in the room. Guilt was growing rapidly in his chest, and it was beginning to make it hard to even breathe.

Lupin's frown deepened. "Harry, there's no shame in admitting that you're finding it hard to cope. Sirius –"

"I'm fine," Harry interrupted almost at once. "I'll remember to write to the Order next time so that no one else's time is wasted. I'm sorry if I've caused any trouble."

And without waiting for a response, Harry made a swift exit from the room. He didn't want to see the look of worry or disappointment that would surely be found on Lupin's face but he just couldn't talk Sirius. Not yet. As much as he couldn't seem to help it, he didn't even want to _think_ about that_._

* * *

Once he reached the relative safety of his room, Harry heard his Uncle's muffled demands that Lupin leave at once, followed almost immediately by sound of the door slamming. Harry sighed, but just as he was beginning to prepare himself for another long night of nightmares, he was unpleasantly surprised when his Uncle called him back down.

"BOY! Get down here right now!"

The tone in his voice suggested trouble to Harry's well practiced ears and Harry sighed again. Why wouldn't everyone just leave him alone...?

Harry quickly followed his Uncle's order however, and when he re-entered the living room, it was clear to Harry that his Uncle was furious, his face rapidly turning a dangerous shade of purple.

"What was the meaning of that? Why the hell is one of _your_ lot making a visit here? They aren't welcome here!" his Uncle yelled, his spit spraying over the floor. Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry's arm and yanked Harry towards him.

"I forgot to write to let them know I was alright," replied Harry, wincing as he tried to free himself from his Uncle's painful grip. "It won't happen again!"

Harry meant every word as well. He had as much reason to prevent any impromptu visits to Privet Drive as his Uncle had. He didn't want to see or speak to anyone. He wanted to be left alone.

Uncle Vernon, however, didn't seem to be placated. In fact, if anything, he became even more angry.

"You're damn right it won't! I am not having those good-for-nothing freaks coming and going as they please!" Uncle Vernon replied furiously, tightening his grip on his nephew.

Harry however, who had more than enough on his mind, was no longer willing to take his Uncle's behaviour without a fight. The emotional state that had filled the last few days had finally taken its toll.

He snapped.

"They are not freaks," Harry said fearlessly, trying to rile up his Uncle. "They are ten times the people you will ever be! I've had enough! You hate me, and I hate you, but you will tolerate anything I tell you to, and you will treat me with some respect because I AM THE ONLY THING KEEPING YOU AND YOUR FAMILY ALIVE-!

SMACK!

Harry fell heavily to the floor from his Uncle's blow, his face stinging from the contact. A part of him felt satisfied with the pain. As if he'd deserved it...

"HOW DARE YOU!" his Uncle roared. "AFTER EVERYTHING WE'VE DONE FOR YOU, YOU UNGRATEFUL-"

Harry didn't care anymore; he just laughed humourlessly at his uncle, mocking his words.

"GET UP TO YOUR ROOM RIGHT THIS INSTANT BEFORE I KNOCK THE STUFFING OUT OF YOU! AND DON'T YOU DARE EXPECT ANY FOOD TONIGHT-"

But Harry was far too used to threats such as this from his so-called family for it to have any real effect. He just calmly picked himself up from the floor and left the room without even looking back at his Uncle, his fists clenched so hard that his knuckles had turned white. As he made his way back to his bedroom, he picked up a cloth from the bathroom and gingerly applied it to his bleeding lip.

On entering his haven, he made his way to his bed and lay back down on it fully clothed. As he tended to his lip, his anger at his Uncle immediately evaporated and despair filled him once again. The visit from Lupin had only succeeded in further reminding Harry of the events of the end of last year, in particular the contents of the Prophecy that the Headmaster had finally revealed to him; '_The one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord approaches...'_

But he refused to allow himself to dwell on this, scared that his fear would overtake him and he would lose whatever grip on reality that he had left.

However now, as he stared at the ceiling once again, instead of horrific memories his vision was filled with all the faceless, nameless strangers who would lose their lives if Harry could not do what the Prophecy demanded of him. All those people and families that Harry feared would be lost when he inevitably failed.

Dead.

* * *

Remus Lupin had always been a patient man. He supposed it had a lot to do with his affliction; when you spend one day a month in pain as a creature so unlike your real self, you learn to appreciate the moments where you can just sit as yourself and breathe freely.

Remus' calm head and patient personality had been most utilised in his schooldays at Hogwarts, largely in futile attempts to calm the hot-heads of James, and in particular Sirius. His strict and patient planning had been one of the reasons that they had gotten away with so many pranks without getting expelled. They had made a good team.

At the present moment though, Remus Lupin's patience was being tested as he guarded Number Four, Privet Drive. As he looked up at the window that he knew led to Harry's room, he thought about the boy who had done so much in his short, and yet had also lost so much. Too much.

This of course brought his thoughts back to Sirius. Remus felt as if he was back where he had been almost fifteen years ago; the anger and injustice burned his insides but at the same time he longed to simply curl up in bed and forget about the world outside, forget about everything but his own grief. But at least he had known Sirius, and had years of memories to draw from when he remembered him. Good memories, too.

But what did Harry have? He had only met Sirius for the first time when he was thirteen and for the next couple of years had only been able to spend short amounts of time with the man. They should have had a lifetime together.

It was so unfair! The injustice rose up in Remus once again. Sirius deserved better. He deserved to be free, to have a life. he'd never deserved to die in the manner than he had.

Harry deserved better.

_I'll make sure he gets what he deserves, _promised Remus, briefly looking skywards. _James, I'll make sure._

It was up to him now. He was the last true Marauder, and the last strong link between Harry and his parents. He didn't know if Harry would want to talk to him, would want to let him help, but he knew that he had to try. His talk with Harry yesterday had only increased his worry.

But he would wait until Harry was ready to talk; he owed him that much. Remus Lupin had always been a patient man.

* * *

As Harry made his way out of the door and onto the identical streets of Little Whinging, his mind was still awash with memories. He wandered the streets, much in the way he had done in the previous summer, but this time the uncontrollable anger and feelings of injustice of that summer were gone. He'd spent a long time last night thinking, particularly about how he was going to deal with the prophecy.

He had thought, for most of last year, that he'd deserved to know what was happening, and that he could handle the truth, whatever that turned out to be. He now knew that he was wrong. He hadn't been ready to handle the burden of the Prophecy then.

He didn't feel ready now.

No, Harry knew he wasn't even close to being ready to deal with his destiny, even despite his deep thinking last night. But as he looked over at the park with the children innocently playing, he made an oath to himself.

_I will be ready._

And with this promise etched firmly on his mind, Harry sat himself on a bench, content to watch the children and their families and wonder about a life that could have been, but never was...

"Harry?"

Harry was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts by a voice that he had not expected to hear. He turned around as the man who the voice belonged to sat down on the bench next to him.

"Professor Lupin, Sir," said Harry in surprise, but he also felt slightly apprehensive, especially since he had practically run out on the man yesterday. What must the man think of him...?

"Harry, are you okay there?" said Lupin worriedly, "You seemed to be in a world of your own."

In reply, Harry just shrugged, though inwardly he was relieved, and said, "I'm fine. How are you?"

Lupin just gave Harry a look that clearly said that he didn't believe him for a second, but he apparently decided to let it go for now, a fact that Harry was infinitely grateful for. Harry didn't want to talk...

"I'm managing," replied Lupin, sighing deeply, and at this Harry dropped his gaze to the floor. "I would appreciate it though if you would call me Remus, or maybe Moony. I'm not your Professor anymore."

Lupin gave him a wry smile, clearly remembering the many times he had already asked Harry to stop calling him Professor, but Harry didn't return it.

"I'm sorry, you know," said Harry quietly after a few minutes, "For what happened to Sirius. If I hadn't believed that stupid vision-"

"Harry," began Lupin, almost desperately. "It...It wasn't your fault. You can't keep blaming yourself. It was Bellatrix Lestrange who killed Sirius, not you..."

At this Lupin's face seemed to contort in an expression of anger mingled with pain, but Harry just shrugged again and turned his attention back to the children playing. He still didn't really want to talk about it. It wouldn't change how he felt. It wouldn't get rid of the guilt...

The two companions sat in silence for a few moments, both too lost in their own thoughts and their own grief. Eventually though, Lupin spoke up.

"Why haven't you been writing to anyone?" he asked, turning his body on the bench so that he was facing Harry once again.

"I wrote a letter this morning," Harry replied, shrugging.

"That wasn't a letter," responded Lupin. "All you wrote was: 'I'm fine, everything is fine here, H.P.'"

"I _am_ fine," Harry emphasised whilst staring at the ground.

"Harry..."

"I don't want to talk about it," he continued tonelessly. "There's nothing to talk about."

Lupin seemed about to respond to this as well but Harry interjected before he could.

"It doesn't matter anyway, does it?" he said despondently, turning his attention back to the park. "No amount of talking can bring Sirius back. Nothing can, so why does it matter if we discuss it? It won't change anything. Sirius will still be dead, and I'll still be alone..." Harry trailed off.

Afraid he'd said too much, Harry abruptly got off the bench and turned to face Remus.

"I'm fine, Remus, really," Harry sighed wearily. "Don't worry about me. Take care of yourself, please?"

And without waiting for a response, Harry began the short walk back to Privet Drive.

* * *

It took longer than Remus would ever admit to shake himself from his shock at Harry's response, but eventually he did, tearing after Harry with his heart pumping loudly in his chest.

"Harry!" he called, jogging to catch the boy up. "Please, just stop for a minute."

Harry did, though if the scowl on his face was anything to go by, he didn't appreciate the fact that Lupin wouldn't leave him alone. The truth was though, Lupin could never leave him alone again, not in the one way that truly mattered at least.

"Harry just listen to me for a moment, okay," Lupin panted. He took a deep breath to try and steady himself once again, but Harry chose that moment to try to pre-empt any effort he was about to make.

"Remus," Harry began quietly. "I just…can't I just be alone for a bit?"

"I'll always worry about you," Remus said suddenly.

"What?" Harry asked, taken aback. His tired eyes met Lupin's.

"You told me not to worry about you," Lupin reminded the teenager. "But I can't stop, Harry. I'll always worry about you."

"Why?" Harry asked, his expression pained, and in that moment, Lupin finally realised what was bothering the boy. "You're better off worrying about someone else."

"No, I'm not, Harry," Lupin argued.

"I'm not worth it," Harry mumbled, and Lupin felt his heart break at the sight of a boy who had lost all his confidence. Oh, he should have been here earlier…

"Sirius, I'm afraid, would have disagreed greatly," Lupin said softly.

Harry's expression turned angry. "I'll never know now, will I? He'll never get the chance to disagree with me because he's dead."

"_I_ disagree with you," Lupin shot back. "And I assure you, I'm not dead."

"You will be if you keep hanging around me," Harry muttered.

Lupin gasped. "Oh, Harry, that's not true."

"Yes it is!"

"Sirius gave his life for you, but Harry...you would have done the same for him. You'd do the same for anyone who loves you and who you love in return. That's what family is all about."

Harry scowled at the ground. "I don't have a family."

"Yes you do," Remus argued desperately. He had to make Harry understand. "Much in the same way I do. Our family is the people we choose to surround ourselves with. There's an old saying that goes 'You can choose you friends, but you can't choose your family.' But you, Harry - you've managed to choose both."

"I'll put you all in danger," Harry argued, shaking his head. "It's not worth it. _I'm_ not worth it..."

"I'm a werewolf, Harry," Lupin replied with a wry smile. "I've felt that way - the way you feel now - since the moment I was bitten. And, I would remind you, I have the benefit of being right, too. I _am_ a danger to everyone around me. But does that mean that I should behave like an outcast, that I should let those fears keep me from being around the few bright spots in my life?

Harry frowned. "No."

"You are young, Harry," Lupin continued. He knew that Harry still didn't understand. "And your heart is pure. You will never be able to understand the depths of depravity that some humans can sink to. This world is full of prejudice, of bullying, of people who push others away, and others who are pushed. But life is too short to let the darkness rule us. We must resist it, Harry. Otherwise, what is the point?"

Harry looked down. "What is the point?"

"The point is to live," Lupin replied desperately. "It is to laugh, to cry, to love, to cherish. To _live. _Sirius was so full of life, Harry. And he loved you so much. You didn't kill him; he died to save you. There is a big difference. He always wanted the very best for you, Harry. Sometimes he struggled to give it to you, but he always wanted to. Always."

"He was a good godfather," Harry argued quietly, and though he didn't look up, he was clearly unhappy with the way that Lupin had described Sirius.

"Yes he was," Lupin agreed. "But he also struggled to deal with everything that had happened to him. He wasn't perfect, and you shouldn't remember him so."

"How will you remember him?" Harry asked, looking up again.

"As one of my very best friends," Lupin replied quietly. "As my brother. My family, Harry."

Lupin saw Harry's mask crack a little, and though it broke his heart, it also sent hope roaring through his chest.

"I miss him, Remus," Harry mumbled finally.

"As do I," Lupin replied softly. "But I know that he would hate to see me wallow in my grief. We talked about you a lot, you know. He made me promise to look after you, Harry, if anything ever happened to him. I intend to keep that promise."

"I…"

"You're not alone, you know," Lupin repeated. "And no matter how hard you try to push me away, I will never leave you. We werewolves can be a stubborn breed."

Harry nodded, but his reluctance was clear to see. "I…I just need time."

"And time you shall have," Lupin replied softly. "But remember, Harry, if you ever need to talk - about anything - I'll always be there for you."

"I.." Harry looked at him uncertainly. Lupin held his breath. "Maybe I could write to you?"

"Of course," Lupin replied, offering Harry a small smile. He kept his relief internal, but he felt it deeply. "And I'll speak to Dumbledore. I know it can't be easy, living here. Maybe we can talk about moving you somewhere else a bit sooner. Perhaps the Weasleys'."

"Maybe," Harry replied uncertainly. He seemed to be struggling with something, and Lupin kept silent, hoping that Harry would find the words to say what he wanted to say. "Or I…maybe I could stay with you? You know, if you don't mind…"

"Of course I wouldn't mind, Harry," Lupin replied, the corner of his eyes filling with tears. "We're family, remember. An unorthodox family, but family nonetheless."

"Yeah," agreed Harry, meeting Lupin's eyes steadily once again. "Family."

Harry gave him a small, tentative smile, and though it was only the first step, and though Harry was clearly still grieving, the fact that he was willing to talk at all, even through letters, was a huge breakthrough.

Lupin returned the boy's smile, hope blossoming in his chest. Harry would be alright, eventually. It would take time, and it would not be easy, but Lupin knew he could wait.

He had always been a patient man.

**~ The End ~**

* * *

**A/N - **So, what did you think? I know it's similar to a lot of my stories, but I hope that is different enough to stay interesting and to make it worth reading! Like I said at the start, I love Harry and Lupin's mentor/teacher/uncle relationship, and I always thought it was a shame that it couldn't be explored more in the books.

I think I will leave this as a one-shot for now, though I could easily see myself adding another chapter or two in the future. For now though, I hope you liked it! Let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!


End file.
